


Mr. Sourwolf and his feelings

by LPM



Series: Mr. Sourwolf and Family [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mpreg, Original Character(s), Pack, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LPM/pseuds/LPM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"...“DerekDerekDerekDerek,” Stiles says his name, squeals his name, moans his name, and each time is a new masterpiece. Stiles hands clench tightly at the bed sheets, noises almost ripped out of him by Derek’s merciless assault..."</p><p>or</p><p>In which Derek is confused. Stiles is extremely horny. And everyone involved gets a "happy ending"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mr. Sourwolf and his feelings

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I feel like its been an inexcusable amount of time since I greeted you all. Hello! I’m very flattered and pleased by the (online) turn-out to this story, and I only hope for your continued enjoyment of my shenanigans. Stiles and Derek are at it again, and I’m pretty excited that we’re all here along for the ride!
> 
> \---------------------------------------------------------
> 
> The Hale Pack  
> Mother: Eileen Hale  
> Father: George Hale (deceased)  
> Kids in order of age:  
> Darien  
> Laura – Jeremy James (beta) = Austin (10), Stephen (8), Colton (7)  
> Derek – Stiles Stilinski = Lorenzo (10)  
> Penny – Samuel Cherry (beta) = Margot, Quinn, Jasper, Hyacinth (all 12)  
> Mitch & Caleb

 

 Derek Hale is not a man of many words. He expresses himself via alternate means, often with expression or movement. Those around him become accustomed to his peculiarities; even his young nieces and nephews are learning how to decipher Derekese. Of all the people he loves, though, there is no one who understands him better than his husband-of-five-years, Stiles (except maybe their son, Lorenzo, who sometimes knows Derek better than he knows himself).

 

Derek, being the third oldest of his siblings, is no stranger to pregnancy. When Stiles had delivered the news that they are expecting a new addition to their family, Derek had been treated to a momentary surge of something powerful and completely primal, like a sizzling brush of electricity crackling though his system. He had ignored it in favor of engaging in some dignified gushing with the rest of his pack. He had thought it was simply nerves and excitement making his skin hum.

 

He had been wrong.

 

When Laura and Penny were pregnant (all 4 times between them), Derek had been elsewhere until the births had happened. Both of his sisters had married mild-mannered betas, whose recollection of their wives’ pregnancies were like spun sugar and rainbows. Perhaps the bliss of welcoming new life had wiped their minds, to be fair, Derek had never gotten into asking them what _their_ experience as betas had been during the ordeal.

 

He wishes he had thought to ask _someone_.

 

* * *

 

The hormones make Stiles fiendish in pursuit of his goals. Whether it be food or sex, his appetite is large and seemingly insatiable. Four months into the pregnancy and doing great, Stiles has already started to show. A firm swell where his belly was once flat, occasionally popping out from beneath the hems of his shirts. His skin is stretched taut over the slowly growing mound, and inside him Derek’s children grow.

 

Yes, the _children_ , because the sonogram had showed three healthy little Hales nestled safely in his husband’s belly.

 

Stiles is not a nauseous or cranky pregnant person. In fact, he’s as upbeat as ever, working hard at his fitness level with the same trainer Laura _and_ Penny had used, keeping up work until he gets too big to hide his bump (which will be sooner than later now), Stiles is just as busy pregnant as he was not.

 

Derek watches his progress, that powerful _thing_ growing daily, sometimes catching him off guard with its intensity. Stiles can be doing something as simple as sitting on the couch, hand absently placed on the swell of his stomach, and Derek will feel it. He can’t quite explain it, even to himself. Being born a wolf means that Derek is very tuned to his “wilder” side. Of course, there have been times where the wolf inside him rears up, struggling to act on his more primal instincts, but Derek has always associated that reaction with events of particular intensity, like when he fell in love with Stiles. This surging feeling that claws at him whenever he lays eyes on Stiles is both like that and not, and its something new, especially for Derek who has lived his life in control of his every reaction.

 

“Sam?” Derek asks his brother-in-law one day as they both sit in the living room waiting for family dinner to begin,

 

“Derek,” Sam answers amicably. Derek shifts, looks away, shifts again, then decides to just spit out his question. Samuel Cherry is nothing if not understanding,

 

“When Penny was preganant…” he begins uncomfortably, Sam sits up and looks at him,

 

“yeah?” he urges.

 

“When Penny was pregnant, do you remember feeling…different?” Derek grinds out, well aware, even without the quizzical look on Sam’s face, that the question is vague.

 

“Different how?” Sam asks, and Derek struggles to articulate the feeling that grows seemingly as his children do.

 

“Here,” Derek places a hand against his chest, over his heart, “its like when you lose control of your wolf and it tries to get loose inside you but its not that…exactly…”

 

He sighs, shoulder slumping, still not able to sensibly word his thoughts; but when he looks over, Sam is smiling, his faze faraway.

 

“When Penny told me she was pregnant, I remember feeling like the top of the world,” Sam says dreamily, “I’m not even an alpha, but I felt bigger and prouder than any man in the vicinity. Even my own alpha couldn’t trump me…and every time I looked at Penny, as she grew with our family, that feeling came up in me.”

 

Derek feels slightly uncomfortable, because Sam is talking about his little sister, but he brushes it aside,

 

“What you’re feeling, Derek, is the ties of pack. It’s your pride in Stiles for being a strong enough mate to bear you healthy cubs. It’s your new family inside him calling out to you…the reason you didn’t recognize it immediately is because you’ve only ever been born into pack, created it with other people, this time you and Stiles _made_ pack, and you’re feeling everything associated with it.”

 

Sam looks at him kindly, “you’re an alpha, so I expect it’s an especially strong feeling.” He says.

 

Derek sits, stunned into silence. He has never thought of it that way, that what Stiles has growing inside him are not only their cubs, but that they’re _life_ and _pack_ and that they _made_ them. Its so simple and yet so much more; Stiles, the “mother” of his children, creating life and pack within himself.

 

“Dinner!” Eileen calls, and Derek puts his thoughts away and thinks its probably good that Stiles is packing up his office at school and isn’t there. Derek doesn’t know what he would do if he was there.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Derek is reading to Lorenzo when Stiles returns, pink cheeked and windswept, from the office.

 

“Ah, my leading men!” he declares, swooping in and dropping kisses on both Derek’s and Lorenzo’s foreheads. When he’s near, Derek can smell how pregnancy has changed his scent.

 

“Ok Renz, time for bed!” Stiles singsongs, and Lorenzo pouts and grouses but goes off to get ready for sleep (meaning he leaves to get up to mischief with Austin).

 

When they’re alone, Stiles goes about getting ready for bed as well, shucking his day clothes and chattering as he goes. Derek watches him with dark eyes, feeling the now-familiar surge in his chest and letting it grow, sizzle sharply through his veins until his skin is fairly crackling with it.

 

“Stiles,” he rasps, aware his eyes must be glowing just by the gravelly quality of his voice. Stiles is looking worriedly at him,

 

“Derek?” he asks, coming over to stand between Derek’s legs and look down at him. Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’ hips and leans forward, head against Stiles’ navel.

 

“Derek?” Stiles repeats, half worried, half laughing, “what’s wrong?” he asks. Derek only inhales deeply, cheek against the swell of Stiles’ stomach, feeling the energy of their children, their _pack_ inside,

 

“nothing.” He whispers, “everything is…everything is fine.” He says.

 

And then he’s standing, staring down into Stiles’ wide eyes, taking his face in both hands and cradling it, kissing him,

 

“I love you,” he says quietly,

 

“I love you” he kisses Stiles on the mouth, chastely,

 

“I love you” he kisses both eyelids, the adorably upturned nose he hopes his daughters will inherit,

 

“I love you,” he kisses both cheeks and pulls back, looking into Stiles’ eyes.

 

“Thank you,” he says.

 

Stiles smiles at him, knowing what he’s saying even without him really having to say it,

 

“I love you too,” he says simply, and leans up for another kiss.

Derek complies, sliding his lips against Stiles’ pliant ones, tongue stroking gently in his mouth. They kiss until their hands get restless and then they touch as well, sliding fingertips against each other in a well-practiced dance.

 

Stiles gets Derek’s clothes off easily and Derek lifts Stiles in his arms, deposits him gently on the bed, then moves in to kiss him again, gently, almost reverently.

 

“No,” Stiles says breathily, and Derek freezes his ministrations, looking up at him.

 

“Not like this,” Stiles clarifies, “I want you to **fuck me** Derek.”

 

In the beginning of their relationship, Stiles had been shy. Five years, and multiple more “embarrassing” incidents in-between, have ended that. Stiles now knows what he wants, and as nice as the gentle, patient, lovemaking they’ve been doing since New Years has been, it’s not what he wants now. What he _does_ want is Derek, fucking him. _Hard_.

 

“I’ve been wet all day thinking about it,” he continues, licking his lips, “of you inside me,”

 

Derek growls and essentially pounces, mouth so frantic against Stiles’ that the kiss is more like mouth-mashing. But this is what Stiles wants, that hot slide of tongue and the hint of teeth that are slightly too sharp; he wants Derek’s hands, large and sure, stroking mindlessly down his sides, brushing against his hypersensitive nipples with _just_ that edge of roughness.

 

“Derek,” he moans as Derek moves down the long exposed column of his neck, lips sucking and marking what’s his. Stiles shudders in his embrace, growing hotter by the second, pregnancy has ratcheted his sex drive up to prodigious levels and he hadn’t been lying about imagining it _all day_.

 

Derek is everywhere, and the touch of him against Stiles’ fevered skin ignites a wave of razor-sharp pleasure sent spiking straight to Stiles’ cock. Above him, he can feel the potent heat rolling off of Derek, see his own erect member, heavy and familiar, already dripping precome.

 

Derek reaches the swell of Stiles’ belly and both hands rise to cup it, fitting perfectly over the mound, when he looks up at Stiles, his eyes are blazing red.

 

“Mine,” he growls, and Stiles feels impossibly hotter, impossibly more aroused. He groans,

 

“Yours, ours,” he agrees.

 

Derek’s hands move from his belly and stroke down his legs. The brush of his callused fingers on the soft skin of Stiles’ inner thigh is maddening; his muscles twitch and quiver, as the digits swipe closer and closer to the place Stiles wants, no, _needs_ to be touched.

 

“Please,” he begs, “please!”

 

And Derek, the sadistic bastard, only chuckles, dark and low, continuing his tortuous pace.

 

When finally, finally, his fingers brush the quivering, slick pucker of Stiles’ entrance, it’s almost overwhelming. Stiles gulps in a lungful of air, back arching as he tries to squirm down against the teasing finger.

 

Derek’s smirk is brief and predatory, before he’s moving in, pressing his mouth to Stiles’ entrance in an obscene kiss. Then his tongue darts out, wicked and skillful, thrusting against the furled pink pucker as his finger skirts the rim. Stiles’ mouth drops open and he concentrates on breathing as Derek presses his thighs up and apart, exposing more of his entrance.

And Stiles is so wet, unbelievably wet, so ready to feel Derek sliding home inside of him. They lock eyes and Stiles knows he must looked ruined, lips swollen and slick and red, eyes half-lidded and hazy, breathing in heavy gasps; but Derek is no better, his face is slick with wetness from licking at Stiles’ entrance, and his lips are also red and puffy.

 

“Now Derek,” Stiles gasps, “now.”

 

Derek slides inside smoothly, and something settles in Stiles the moment he’s fully seated. Derek bites his lip hard, still transported momentarily, even after all these years, by the feel of Stiles’ entrance stretched to gaping and grasping greedily around his cock.

 

He moves slowly at first, drawing small mewling sighs from Stiles beneath him, but then he finds Stiles’ prostate and he moans loudly. Derek feels the wolf in him, always closer to the surface when he and Stiles are like this, howling with joy at the feeling of completeness that comes with entering one’s mate. He feels the wild blood in his veins making the change of his eyes impossible to control, he roars. Sliding his hands at the crook of each knee, he picks Stiles’ legs up, snaps his hips forward into him just to hear Stiles moan again.

 

Gone is the languid pace and easy sighing moans and in their wake is left the most primal of urges. The room is filled with their noises, Stiles endless litany of gasps and moans, the staccato of flesh on flesh as Derek fucks into him again and again.

 

“DerekDerek _Derek_ Derek,” Stiles says his name, squeals his name, moans his name, and each time is a new masterpiece. Stiles hands clench tightly at the bed sheets, noises almost ripped out of him by Derek’s merciless assault. His skin feels tight, tingling, and he knows he won’t last much longer. Arching up, he manages to drag Derek down and they kiss sloppily, haphazardly, until the uncomfortable position forces them apart.

 

“ _Stiles_ ” Derek groans, and draws Stiles legs around his waist. This way they’re close, and Stiles’ cock rubs against Derek’s hard stomach with every thrust. He feels the tightening in his lower stomach soon enough, and he bucks even more frantically, relishing the feeling of Derek’s hands kneading his ass, holding his cheeks open to more easily welcome the thick slide of his cock.

 

“Derek, I’m….I’m…” Stiles gasps, fingers clenching hard at Derek’s shoulders. Derek just presses him closer, grinds into him as he comes and the walls of his entrance clench hard.

 

Even as Stiles comes down from his orgasm, Derek reaches his, groaning almost as if pained and emptying himself deep inside of Stiles, then collapsing.

 

When he pulls out, Stiles can already feel the sticky slide of his come dripping out and down, staining the bed sheets, but for a moment it doesn’t matter.

 

Derek pulls him close, maneuvering so neither of them is on the wet spot, and settles in to sleep. The last thing Stiles remembers before closing his eyes and nodding off himself, is the comforting sound of Derek’s heartbeat beneath his ear, and the warmth of Derek’s hand, big and hot, spread protectively over his belly.

 

END

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Good Lawdy Wawdy! Already gearing up for the next, not so pwp installation of this. Some stuff happens, some moe stuff happens, maybe some more (probably definitely some more) naughty stuff happens, and we all go home happy I hope!


End file.
